


cold hands

by HagridsBong, wholesome_gay



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Albus is a Drama Queen, Bisexual Scorpius Malfoy, Boys In Love, Brotherly Bonding, Christmas, Fluff, Gay Albus Severus Potter, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, POV Albus Severus Potter, POV Scorpius Malfoy, Post-Canon, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-01-25 16:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HagridsBong/pseuds/HagridsBong, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholesome_gay/pseuds/wholesome_gay
Summary: It starts with, of all things, a Quidditch game.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 20
Kudos: 176





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My wife and I saw Cursed Child in August, and now here we are, writing fic together. So it goes.

Albus Potter hated Quidditch.

So far, sitting hundreds of meters above the ground in almost freezing December weather squinting at meatheads on brooms throwing balls at each other, attending his first Quidditch game at Hogwarts had not changed his mind.

"But then, it's not all just brute strength with Quidditch, is it? There's whole books of Quidditch strategies, full of exact calculations about wind velocity and like, the angles of the broom twigs. It's a whole field of study, Quidditch is!"

Scorpius had been steadily laying out the theoretical Quidditch knowledge he had learned this year for an hour to a mostly mute Albus. Scorpius had added almost every book on the sport to his library list after he decided to try out for the Slytherin team next year in an effort to follow his dad's suggestion to “pick up some new hobbies” which he thought would help him “stay out of trouble.” Scorpius took this as an opportunity to 1: help soothe his dad’s perpetually worried state after The Incident, and 2: read a lot of books about hobbies. 

It was Scorpius who had brought him out to the game kicking and screaming. Well, he had asked Albus to come with him two months in advance and given him every opportunity to bail. Which was very considerate because Scorpius always was considerate and never made Albus do anything he didn't want to do. But he would rather be with Scorpius in this frozen jock hell than alone in his dorm. Without Scorpius.

"Anyway, I just really think we really undervalue the Holyhead Harpies and I have to say, Albus, it's genuinely misogyny that's just pervasive in the sport. Has your mom ever talked about sexism she's faced during her career?"

Scorpius paused his diatribe and looked at Albus. Albus, who had been watching Scorpius' left cheek growing pinker and pinker in the cold and hearing about every third thing his friend said, was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts.

"My mum, what?" 

"Does she ever say anything about her Quidditch days?"

"Oh," Albus thought for a second, "We never really talk about that. Maybe her and James have?"

"We should ask James after the game!"

Albus let out a short laugh. James, who was currently doing his usual post-goal-score move of hooking his knees around his broom and flipping upside down and crossing his arms while circling around the Slytherin keeper, was almost certainly not going to be available for childhood reminiscences afterwards.

"Nah, he'll be carried off the second he hits the ground." Albus couldn't understand how James' idiotic behavior on the pitch contributed so much to his popularity. "That's always it with Slytherin vs. Gryffindor games. They always think it's so heroic when their team wins against us, like it's good guys beating the bad guys. Then they go celebrate in the common room all night long and pass around their single brain cell."

Scorpius frowned.

"But Albus, how would you know that? You've never been to the Gryffindor common room, or to a Slytherin vs. Gryffindor game, or to a Hogwarts Quidditch game at all until today."

Albus went a bit red and tried to backtrack.

"I live with four Gryffindors. Trust me, I know." Albus hastily changed the subject like he always did when Scorpius caught him being a bit unkind. "You look very cold."

Scorpius did look cold. Besides his cheeks growing pinker by the second, he had forgotten his gloves and was using his hands to illustrate Quidditch plays very enthusiastically.

"Yeah, my fingers are a bit stiff," said Scorpius, trying to flex them and wincing.

"Here, you can take mine." Albus started pulling off his gloves immediately because Scorpius did not do well in the cold at all. He'd never forgotten how much Scorpius shivered on their walk to Godric's Hollow last October, how his skin felt like ice when Albus brushed by him. He remembers how it terrified him, more than anything else, that Scorpius could freeze to death in the past without his dad knowing where he was, and all because of Albus' stupid mistakes.

"NO, I… no, I'm fine, I'll just…" Scorpius searched his clothes for a pocket but was wearing what he called his "going out ensemble," which consisted of (very tight) leggings and a very fashionable, very useless tapered cloak with no pockets. Why Scorpius would waste this absolute banger of an outfit on bloody Quidditch when they had Hogsmeade the next day Albus could not understand. 

"Here, just give it to me!" Albus grabbed Scorpius' closest hand, intertwined their fingers and pulled them into his pocket in one swift motion.

Several seconds later, when he realized what he'd done, Albus slowly turned his head towards Scorpius. Scorpius was looking forward, wide-eyed with his mouth slightly open.

They did not move their hands or speak for the rest of the game, and were eventually pulled apart by the crowd exiting the stadium.


	2. Chapter 2

Yesterday’s Quidditch match had not gone quite as Scorpius anticipated. 

In bed, ostensibly studying for his upcoming History of Magic exam, he replayed the afternoon in his head. The game had been good - it was a close one, with Slytherin winning by just a few points. Scorpius had found himself very invested in it, right up until Albus grabbed his hand. After that, it was difficult to focus on anything but the warmth of his friend’s skin. This confirmed what Scorpius already knew: his feelings toward Albus were far beyond platonic. In fact, how he felt about Albus was beyond how he used to feel about Rose. It was bigger and softer, somehow.

Scorpius paused his third read-through of his notes to rub his eyes. Everyone else in the dormitory was still sleeping, since it was Sunday. Scorpius wished he was, too, but unfortunately a swarm of anxious thoughts about the boy in the bed next to his had him awake early. 

What Scorpius couldn’t figure out was if Albus meant anything by it. Was it just a friendly gesture? It was very possible that Scorpius was reading too much into it. But he couldn’t not think about it. Holding hands wasn’t something they’d done before. Blokes didn’t just hold hands with their mates. He didn’t know much about being a Normal Teenage Boy, but this much he was sure of. 

So would their Hogsmeade outing today be like a  _ date _ ? 

Albus mumbled something in his sleep that Scorpius couldn’t make out.

No, no. That was ridiculous. But he had better dress nicely just in case. 

Scorpius got out of bed and quietly rifled through his wardrobe. He settled on a pair of navy blue trousers, form-fitting and pocketless. “Pockets ruin the outline,” his father had told him. More importantly, if he didn’t wear pockets and “forgot” to bring gloves, then Albus might hold his hand again. Perhaps thoughts like these were why the hat placed him in Slytherin.

* * *

“Could you pass the butter, Albus?”

“What?”

“The butter.” Scorpius pointed, hoping that would help. “Please.”

Albus handed it over without looking at him. He had been acting weird today. Or maybe Scorpius was acting weird and Albus was just reacting to him. It was hard to say.

Scorpius buttered his toast. He was a bit too jittery to really feel hungry, but he knew better than to skip breakfast. “So,” he started. “So!”

Albus finally made eye contact, looking a bit apprehensive. “Yeah?”

“What time do you want to head over to Hogsmeade?” He meant to say this in a casual tone, but it came out a bit too fast.

“Oh, well. About that. I’m actually going with James.” This was unprecedented. Albus took a hefty gulp of tea and spilled a few drops on his robes. He seemed not to notice.

“Oh.” Scorpius hurried to swallow his disappointment, which he really had no right to feel. “Well. That’ll be nice! You can have some… some.. brotherly time.” Even though Albus didn’t really get along with his siblings, Scorpius was jealous. He used to fantasize about having brothers or sisters, back when his mother was alive. 

“Right,” Albus said. He didn’t look as though he was particularly looking forward to it.

“I’m sure you’ll have fun,” Scorpius offered, attempting to sound cheerful. He took a bite of his toast, and had a feeling that it wasn’t going to settle well in his stomach. Why was Albus going with James, anyway? He couldn’t remember the last time Albus had gone out of his way to spend time with his brother. 

Albus dashed off after breakfast, presumably to meet up with James, and Scorpius walked back to his dormitory alone. There was no point in going to Hogsmeade without Albus. 

“Where’s your boyfriend, Malfoy?” 

Scorpius turned on his heel, alarmed. At the end of the hallway were a handful of Ravenclaw fifth year boys, sniggering at him. Before he could think of how to respond, they had already rounded the corner and were out of sight.

Maybe that was why Albus didn’t want him to come.

* * *

  
  


Scorpius stared at the roll of parchment on the desk in front of him. So far, he had only written “Dear Father, I hope you are well.” He desperately wanted to talk to someone, and the someone he usually talked to was Albus, but he couldn’t talk to Albus  _ about  _ Albus. He also couldn’t talk to his dad about Albus; it wasn’t as if he could just say, “By the way, I fancy Harry Potter’s son. Any advice?” 

A thick drop of ink fell from his quill onto the parchment. Scorpius sighed. He knew his dad wanted them to communicate with each other more, and they’d been doing pretty well, but there was no good way to broach this topic. His father had never even asked him about girls. 

Scorpius folded the parchment in half, then opened it up and folded in half the other way. If only he could talk to his mother. There were so many conversations he’d never get to have with her. 

He kept fiddling with the parchment until it resembled a crane, albeit a pathetic one. He tapped it with his wand and it flew lethargically around the empty common room.

Scorpius took out a new roll of parchment and started writing again.

_ Dear Mum, _

_ First of all, I miss you very much and every day. If I could bring you back I would, but death (like time) I suspect should not be meddled with. _

_ Sometimes just looking at my own handwriting is enough to make me sad. My p’s and q’s look just like yours.  _

_ Anyway, the thing is, I have feelings for Albus. I hope you don’t mind; I know it’s a bit strange, but at least I am not getting into any potentially world-ending trouble this year.  _

_ At any rate, I’ve no idea what to do about it. Maybe he feels the same, or maybe our friendship would be over if he knew how I felt. I wish I was a Legilimens! Or just someone a bit braver. _

_ I will probably just wait this out. Eventually Albus will marry someone who is a girl and much cooler than me, and I’ll tell him about how I used to fancy him and we’ll have a laugh about it.  _

_ I’m not laughing right now though. _

_ Love always, _

_ Scorpius _

He sealed the letter in an envelope and addressed it to “Astoria Malfoy’s grave.” He wasn’t sure if owls delivered to cemeteries, but it seemed worth a try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this to be so sad....... please forgive me


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news: this chapter is MUCH more lighthearted!

"JAMES!"

At the sound of Albus’ voice, James whipped around in his chair, abandoning the homework that lay in front of him on the Gryffindor common room table. "What the hell, Al! How did you even get in here?" 

Albus stood in front of the portrait hole, wondering if he looked as miserable as he felt. 

James immediately stood up and walked over to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, grabbing his brother's shoulder.

"I need your help," said Albus, meeting James’ eyes.

Albus had not once asked his brother for help, with anything, since he'd come to Hogwarts. Every year, James bounded on the train as soon as he got through Platform 9 3/4s to meet his large, loud friends in their usual compartment. Albus would go sit with Scorpius. Sometimes James messed up his hair if they passed in the halls, but they never found a bridge between their houses.

Albus knew that their parents had told James to look after him after last year, but he had planned on just keeping his head down and plowing through the year as usual without his brother's pity. Until the bloody Quidditch game.

James looked seriously alarmed. "What happened?" he asked, looking around to see if anyone was listening and then lowering his voice. "How did you get in here?" James had both his hands on Albus' shoulders now and a deep crease between his (honestly shapeless and bushy) brows.

"It's Scorpius," Albus said in a rush, breaking contact and flopping onto the nearest poofy chair, "It'll be Christmas soon and I have NO IDEA what to get him!"

James squinted at him. "So you're not, like, involved in some sort of time paradox and haven't resurrected Moldy Voldy or anything?"

"What?" Albus knew that this was a bad idea; James was far too thick to understand the urgency of the situation. "No, dammit, I just wanted your advice. But seeing as you're a prat I don’t even know why I asked!"

Albus jumped up to storm out of the portrait hole.

"WAIT!" James followed him. "Wait a bloody second, calm down. What can I do?"

Albus lifted his chin and looked back at him. "You want to help?"

James sighed and closed his eyes in resignation. "Yes. Yes, I do want to help my little brother, obviously."

"Come to Hogsmeade with me today."

* * *

It was fucking cold. Albus shoved his hands deep in his pockets and walked at such a quick clip into the village that James struggled to keep up behind him.

"Why are we running? We've got hours!"

"We need to go to every shop."

It was strange to go into the little village without Scorpius. Albus felt a shadow of the stomach pain he experienced whenever Scorpius wasn't by his side -- the same dark fear that he was gone from this timestream too, that something had gone horribly wrong again and he never existed at all. This feeling usually caused Albus to wake up in a panic and tip toe over to Scorpius' bed to pull the hangings back and check that he was still there, breathing peacefully. 

* * *

He pulled James into store after store, picking up and discarding everything from chocolates to extravagant quill sets, declaring them insufficient and forcing himself back out into the frigid air over and over. 

"Albus." Jame stopped him after the thirteenth shop. He’d been uncharacteristically silent as Albus dragged him from store to store muttering that everything they had for sale was shit. "Let's have a butterbeer, Al." 

"There's no time!"

During a typical Hogsmeade visit, Albus and Scorpius would rush to the Three Broomsticks early, grab a table near the fire, and hole up there for the entire time. Albus had only a few hours left to find the perfect gift, and didn’t want to waste any of that time listening to James talk Quidditch and try to charm firewhisky out of Madame Rosmerta.

"Al." James physically pulled him into the pub and pushed him down onto the closest stool. "I'm not gonna keep helping you if you don’t tell me what's going on."

James was, unfortunately, very large and strong and Albus couldn't wiggle his way out from under his hands. Albus looked up at him defiantly. 

"Don't call me Al."

James sighed, released him, and took the stool opposite. 

"Okay,  _ Albus _ , you're going to answer some questions for me or I am no longer helping you navigate this manic episode."

He stood up abruptly and walked to the bar. Albus was struck a bit dumb by the authority in his brother's voice -- James usually just messed about; he was never one to lay down the law with his siblings. 

James came back with two mugs of butterbeer.

"First of all, how did you get into the Gryffindor common room?"

"What? Why does that-"

"Albus."

Albus sighed and ran his hand over his face. "Fine. Rose told me the password because I told her Lily forgot and Lily was too scared to ask because she thought Rose would think she was dumb."

"And that actually worked?" 

"Yeah." Albus smiled. "Rose has got a huge ego and Lily worships the ground she walks on."

"Devious."

"Slytherin."

"Okay, fine. Can you tell me why you needed to dramatically break into Gryffindor to take me on a shopping marathon? You scared the shit out of me, mate."

Albus blinked. James had never called him "mate" before. And, honestly, to the best of Albus' memory, they’d never had a conversation this long without James elbowing him in the face or wrestling him to the ground. "What? I just....need your help with this."

"Al, you haven't looked this freaked out since... you know." James looked down into his butterbeer. "The stuff that happened last year."

"Oh." He and James hadn't really talked about last year. They didn't talk much about... things like that. "It’s not like that, James -- I just needed advice like really, really badly. Something happened with Scorpius."

James looked up in alarm.

"Not like," Albus said, waving his hands, "time-travelly stuff! I just need to get him a really good Christmas present is all. The best present possible."

James' brows drew together. "Why are you acting as if he's going to die or something if you don't get him the exact right quill set? You're great friends, he's going to like whatever -- just get him a box of sweets or swipe something from Uncle Ron's."

"No, you don't..." Albus sighed and drank his butterbeer in resignation. He’d almost thought James was listening this time, that he had wanted to help Albus out.

"Al, please just tell me. I don't want us to be all... like  _ this _ anymore." James waved his hands at the air between them.

Albus stared at him for a moment. Oh, what the hell, who else could help him at this point? He took in a deep breath. "Okay, so at the last game Scorpius forgot his gloves because he literally always forgets something in the dorm when he leaves and so we were at the game and his hands were just getting colder and colder cuz it was bloody freezing -- I mean you know you were flying about in it -- and the thing is Scorpius is all about having no pockets because he likes a clean line for his outfits which honestly I know is important to him but it's just impractical so what I did was I..." Albus paused for a breath. "I held his hand. For, like, an hour." Albus paused, moodily staring down at the table.

"And?" 

When Albus looked up, James was staring at him. "And? What do you mean, AND?" Albus sputtered. "He probably fucking hates me now, doesn't he? I must have made him feel so weird!"

"Did he say that you made him feel weird?"

"No, he just..." Albus sighed again, "was acting a bit shifty afterwards, like he didn't want to be too close to me. I think I really freaked him out."

James still didn't look too concerned. Albus should have realized that James was too stupid to understand basic human emotions.

"So did you, like, try asking him how he's feeling about it?"

Albus spit out a great quantity of butterbeer.

"I can't just DO THAT!" Albus furiously wiped at the butterbeer on his chin and collar with the sleeve of his hoodie. "I'd just say, 'Hey mate, how'd you feel about all that HAND HOLDING? Are you avoiding being near me because I FORCED MY BIG FAT HAND into yours and you were too polite to shake me off?'"

"I mean, yeah, something like that."

"That conversation would kill us both instantly."

James looked contemplative. This was an expression Albus had rarely seen on him, and he thought it made him look a bit constipated.

"I mean, do you really think he doesn't like you back? You're always together, and even when you're not, you're always writing him."

Albus turned completely red. "WHAT?" he yelled so loudly several other students turned in their seats to look at them. Albus sunk down into his seat. 

"Whoa, I'm just saying that it seems pretty mutual and maybe he's just as freaked out as you? Maybe this could be a good thing?"

Albus slid even further down in his chair. "It's not... why would you- We haven't even, we don't, it's not..."

"Al," James started tapping on the table, seemingly nervous for the first time. "Like I said, I want us to talk to each other more. I'm leaving Hogwarts next year and I don't just want to lose all contact with you. You can tell me stuff about what's going on with you. You don't have to hide this from me."

Albus started eyeing the door.

"You can tell me about like, gay stuff! I can hear about gay stuff, no problem!"

James was now smiling a bit too widely and had his arms out. When Albus didn't respond, he lowered his arms.

"I mean," James said haltingly, "I don't want you to have to feel like you can't tell me about your crushes! I know that you took down that shirtless poster of Gonçalo Flores because I made fun of you for hanging it over your bed."

Albus was sweating. A couple of years ago their mum brought home a charity calendar of the Brazilian Quidditch team that she had gotten at work (mostly) as a joke. Every month featured a different scantily clad athletic Brazilian man winking and flexing to raise money for the St. Mungo’s Children’s Ward. Ginny had ended up giving it to Albus because of his obsession with chaser Gonçalo Flores, who had wavy hair and sparkly green eyes that looked out suggestively from the March photo Albus had ripped out and taped above his bed. James had teased him about it so badly that he tore it down just two days later.

"I don't- I just- I'm a big fan of the Brazilian team!"

"What's the name of the team, Albus? Who are any of the other players?" James demanded.

Albus' face was burning. "The Brazilian… Bees? Beetles? I know there is a beater named Jenkins who has these massive arms… he was in the calendar too..."

"Al."

Albus put his head down on the table.

"Anyway, what I'm trying to say." James lowered his head and tried to meet Albus' eyes. "Is that that was shitty of me. And you can talk to me about men… gay stuff, guys and blokes and… whatever," he finished lamely.

Albus found it impossible to respond to this, but slowly lifted his head. He and James finished their drinks in silence. 

Albus drew in a large breath to summon his courage. "Alright."

"Alright?"

"You've gotten gifts for girls that you… liked, yes? Like that time you had to buy Aly McQueen that expensive music box to make up for kissing her friend at that party?"

James grimaced. "That… was not my best moment."

"But it worked! She kept snogging you for a year afterwards!"

"I suppose..."

"Then," Albus straightened up and cleared his throat, "please help me find something that will make Scorpius less angry at me for holding his hand."

"I really don't think-" James looked at Albus, who was still a bit red and probably close to tears if he was going to be honest with himself. "Fine."

Albus immediately stood up and went to the door. 

"Hurry up, we've only got an hour left!"

* * *

After going to several more shops and not finding anything good enough to salvage Albus’one and only friendship, James pulled him into Gladrags Wizardwear for new socks because his roommates had vanished all his in some sort of Quidditch-related retaliation that Albus didn't quite understand, but apparently James found hilarious.

Albus followed James despondently around the shop, unable to believe that after going to over a dozen stores this one would have the answer. 

"Am I a bit old to get ones with snitches on? Maybe the striped ones are more mature?" James held up two pairs of socks to Albus, who was not listening to him at all and instead was distracted by the display behind him.

Elegant gloves of all types filled the shelves behind James. Albus zeroed in on a slim green pair that looked exactly the right size for Scorpius' long fingers. He snatched them up.

"And anyway, if I get black ones they'll just get mixed up with everyone else's… what've you got there?"

Albus continued to ignore James and searched for a price tag. 

"Twenty galleons," Albus said, checking his wallet and finally turning to his brother. "Can I borrow thirteen galleons?"

"Thirteen?! The hell you need that much money for?"

Albus held up the gloves and James took them.

"These are dragonhide, mate! Although," he said contemplatively, "Scorp is rather posh. But it's a big present to give someone."

"First of all, his name is Scorpius, and second of all, they're perfect. He has to have them." Albus took the gloves back. "Please, James, I'll pay you back."

James raised an eyebrow.

"I'll pay you back… one day."

James sighed. "Do you think these will really help smooth over the whole hand holding thing? Will it help you both get over yourselves?"

"Yes, I just really need him to forgive me. I've only-" he looked away from James, "I've only just got the one friend..."

James ran his hand over his face and took the gloves up to the register. 

He stopped the cashier as she was wrapping them up. "Hold on a moment." James took put his wand and muttered the same permanent warming charm that their Mum would cast on their new winter coats. When James finished the spell and the gloves were wrapped up, he shoved the bag at Albus and turned on his heel to walk out the door.

"I'm absolutely going to be your best man."

Albus almost dropped the bag while he followed James out.


	4. Chapter 4

Scorpius couldn’t help but notice how jittery Albus was when he got back from Hogsmeade. His strange behavior continued all through the last week of the term, and Scorpius didn’t feel good about it, but at least Albus wasn’t avoiding him. They hadn’t talked about the hand-holding incident yet, so they probably never would.

Scorpius neatly folded a pair of pants and placed them in his trunk. He was halfway done packing for the winter holidays, and Albus hadn’t even started, although he was the one who’d suggested that they get to it. Their roommates were in the common room, enjoying a Christmas party that neither of them had much interest in attending. Albus sat on the edge of his bed, talking about the trip his family had planned. He wasn’t complaining as much as usual.

“And then we’ll spend a few days in Lisbon, and I’ll probably have to share a room with James.” Albus wrinkled his nose. Scorpius would very much like to kiss his nose. “But he’s been...well, much less of a prat lately.”

“That’s good! I mean, it seemed like you had an alright time with him in Hogsmeade. Brotherly bonding and all.” Luckily, Albus hadn’t noticed how left out Scorpius felt about it. Scorpius rolled up a pair of socks and tucked them inside a pair of navy blue dress shoes. 

“Er, yeah…about that.” 

Scorpius looked up. Where was this going?

Albus was wringing his hands. He leapt off the bed and yanked open the top drawer of his nightstand. He retrieved a small, poorly wrapped package from within. Albus stood up, walked over to Scorpius, and held the package out in front of him.

“Oh, no!” Scorpius cried as the realization hit him. “Albus, I haven’t got your present yet!” He’d been planning on going shopping with his father in Diagon Alley this weekend.

“It’s alright,” Albus said quickly. “I know we usually send our gifts by owl.” The package, still extended toward Scorpius, was shaking slightly, as was Albus’s arm. 

Scorpius took the parcel from Albus’s hand. “Thank you.” He hadn’t even thought about what to get Albus, really. What sort of friend was he?

“Open it,” Albus urged, bouncing slightly on the heels of his feet.

Scorpius peeled away the blue and green striped wrapping paper. Inside were a pair of handsome, dark green dragonhide gloves. Before Scorpius even had a chance to react, Albus started babbling.

“They’re charmed to stay warm. And also to stick together when you take them off, so they won’t get lost. Well, they could still get lost, but they won’t get lost separately, anyway. I was just thinking, since you often lose a glove, and your hands get cold easily - nothing wrong with that, but - I mean, so this way, I don’t have to hold your hands to keep them warm,” Albus finished in a rush. 

“Oh,” said Scorpius. So, Albus holding his hand hadn’t meant anything (other than that Albus was a kind friend). And now, Albus had made sure there was no need for it to happen again. “Thank you,” Scorpius said once more, hoping that Albus hadn’t noticed the way his voice cracked. He slipped on one of the gloves and held his hand up to examine it. It was elegant, and very soft inside. His eyes stung with the beginnings of tears.

Albus was staring at him, wide-eyed. “Do you not like them?”

“No, they’re lovely!” They were. “Really!” 

Albus looked thoroughly unconvinced. “What’s wrong?” he asked, chewing on his lip.

“I just-” And now the tears spilled over, embarrassingly. Scorpius tried to think of an alternative explanation for his bizarre reaction, but nothing came to mind. He’d just have to tell Albus, and then things would be awkward between them over the whole break, and probably next term, and possibly even into seventh year. And it would be Scorpius’s fault, all because he cried over a pair of gloves.

“Scorpius?” Albus had taken a step closer to him, and he looked a few moments from panicking. 

“I want you to hold my hand!” Saying this aloud made Scorpius want to crawl under his bed covers and hide for a week.

Albus’s expression changed. He took a deep breath and said, “I… I also want me to hold your hand.” And then he did. Albus’s hand was a bit sweaty. 

“Not as  _ friends _ , Albus,” Scorpius clarified, his face growing warm. Merlin, he must have looked a mess.

“Er… no. I don’t think friends usually hold hands, actually,” Albus said in a confessional tone, looking down at their intertwined fingers.

“Right,” Scorpius said faintly. The sudden turn of events had his head spinning. Albus was standing very close. Scorpius tried to ground himself by counting the freckles on Albus’s face. Perhaps he  _ could  _ kiss his nose. Scorpius wiped under his eyes with the back of his gloved hand. 

Albus’s eyes flickered back and forth from Scorpius’s face to their hands, blinking rapidly (a nervous tic that Scorpius found adorable). Perhaps he was waiting for Scorpius to do something.

“Can I-” Scorpius croaked. He cleared his throat. Was it possible to die of a self-induced heart attack? Merlin’s pants, he was really going to do this! “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

Albus inhaled sharply, then nodded, closed his eyes, and tilted his head upward.

Scorpius was afraid he’d be a terrible kisser, as he’d had zero experience. But there was only one way to get better. He leaned in and pressed his lips tentatively to Albus’s. 

For a moment, nothing else happened. Then, Albus put his free hand on the back of Scorpius’s neck and pressed back.

Something unraveled inside of him. He didn’t have to be scared. This was _ Albus. _

Scorpius opened his mouth slightly, and Albus followed. His lips tasted like the Pepper Imps he’d been eating earlier. Scorpius put his hand on Albus’s side, feeling the expansion of his lungs with each breath. 

Scorpius felt Albus’s tongue slide along his lips. Scorpius bit Albus’s lower lip.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!” he said shrilly. Dammit, he’d already screwed up. 

But Albus was smiling at him, and their hands were still together.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Scorpius whispered.

Albus shrugged and laughed nervously. “Neither do I!” He cupped Scorpius’s cheek. “But, well, I’m glad to be doing it with you.”

It occurred to Scorpius that he was happy. Ridiculously, brilliantly happy. How could he not be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays!!


End file.
